


Elizabeth, meet Ms. Darcy

by wildcard_dizzle



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5426291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcard_dizzle/pseuds/wildcard_dizzle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana may be a bit of a closet romantic. (Yet another coffee shop AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elizabeth, meet Ms. Darcy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this little drabble about a year ago based on this tumblr prompt by grdnofevrythng: "I will see your celeb couple AU and raise you an AU where they give the barista different fictional specifically or not literary (doesn't matter) and the barista decides to play matchmaker when, more often than not, the two give characters from the same fandom/show/book on the same day."

Santana would never admit to it if you asked. You would never actually ask, though, because she’ll have already threatened your ability to have any children or experience any kind of sexual pleasure for even  _thinking_  about asking. So you don’t talk about her thrice-weekly classic/romantic movie nights. And you definitely don’t talk about how much she loves those fucking movies and the stupid way her heart flutters every time Rhett grabs hold of Scarlet, pulling her close, and kissing her breath away.

That’s why she only does this when she goes to Starbucks alone. She doesn’t want to have to explain why she likes to fantasize, even for a brief moment, that she’s a character in one of those movies. She doesn’t want to have to admit that she fantasizes about it in the first place.

Santana locks the screen on her phone when she finishes reading the email that had come through. Once the blonde in front of her steps to the side, Brian the Barista greets her with a familiar smile. She didn’t like him at first. Way too much pep for 8AM on weekdays. But she’d caught the snarky comment he’d muttered about the overly-coiffed middle-aged divorcee with the unnecessarily complicated order in front of her a couple weeks ago, and she warmed up to him instantly. Though he seemed to remember her, he never commented on the different names she gave every time. For some reason she never understood, his eyes would occasionally light up in recognition that was beyond the film reference.

The last two movie nights were dedicated to the same movie because she loved it so much. She hadn’t expected to even like “Pride and Prejudice,” but she hears herself giving Brian her name of the day.

“Elizabeth,” she finishes after ordering her caramel macchiato.

There’s that sparkle of recognition again. She can’t not ask him about it.

“Okay, what?” It comes out with a bit more bite than she means, and he’s visibly thrown by it.

“Uh… what, what?”

“How do you know which Elizabeth I am? You just look like… you  _know_. HOW can you know? Like, how many Elizabeths are there, really?” She wasn’t bothered at first, but now she’s getting irritated by the grin that’s slowly growing on his face.

"Well, you were Bennet yesterday. And judging by the little smile that you said it with, I assumed you really loved the movie… or book. But you seem more like the movie type. So, now I see how much you loved it,  _Elizabeth_.” His eyes flit toward the end of the counter before landing on hers, a smirk plastered on his face.

Santana narrows her eyes suspiciously at him. “You see too much, Brian the Barista. Whatever. Just give me my damn coffee already.” This time there’s no bite in her words as she fights the smile that quirks at the corners of her mouth.

She walks to the end of the bar, and locks eyes with the blonde she assumes had been in front of her. Santana’s heart flutters at how striking she is, and she swallows thickly. The blonde smiles at her in greeting, which Santana returns modestly, murmuring a “Hey” as she moves to stand next to her to wait for her coffee.

Though her order was second, Brian the Barista calls out her name first. She walks up to accept her drink. Brian the Barista hands it to her, but doesn’t let go at first. She scrunches her brow in confusion, silently asking him, what the hell? He grins, looking down at the cup he has in his other hand. Never looking away from her, he calls out the other order.

"Darcy!”

Santana looks down at the other cup. From the markings it looks to be a green tea latte, the name “Darcy” in black sharpie teasing her. She only looks up when she sees a pale hand take Darcy’s cup, and a smooth voice thanks Brian the Barista.

Brian looks back at Santana, that stupid grin still on his face.

“Elizabeth, meet Ms. Darcy. Ms. Darcy, Elizabeth.”

 _Ms. Darcy_  turns to face Santana, several emotions crossing her flawless features.

“Quinn. Hi.”

Santana dumbly takes the hand that isn’t holding a cup.

“Santana.”

She won’t ever admit how much she loves those stupid movies. But she will admit that those stupid movies got her what she loves most.


End file.
